


Wonder

by orphan_account



Series: 2nd POV Drabbles [6]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2012!Phan, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, excessive use of the word of the word wonder and orange juice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:25:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> 2012!phan angst bc who doesn't want that<br/>-<br/>When you’re alone in bed at night, you wonder about a lot of things. You used to wonder if you locked the door. After that, you used to wonder why you existed. Now, you wonder; does he ever think of you?</p><p>It makes you want to smother yourself with a pillow at 4:53 in the morning, because he doesn’t. He never thinks of you. He only thinks of himself and hides behind broken smiles and cracked masks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lesterotic](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lesterotic).



> i fully blame [lesterotic](http://lesterotic.tumblr.com) for this bc their tag makes me cry. (also this is called wonder bc of the reoccuring use and bc it means ‘miracle’ in dutch)

When you’re alone in bed at night, you wonder about a lot of things. You used to wonder if you locked the door. After that, you used to wonder why you existed. Now, you wonder; does he ever think of you?

It makes you want to smother yourself with a pillow at 4:53 in the morning, because he doesn’t. He never thinks of you. He only thinks of himself and hides behind broken smiles and cracked masks.

 

* * * * * 

 

When you met for the first time, you wondered about him. You wondered what he would smell like, what his hands would feel like, if his eyes would still be as bright as they were through a webcam.

Now, you wonder what went wrong. You wonder what happened to make your stomach turn with bile every time you smell him. You wonder why every brush of his hands against your body makes you want to curl into yourself. You wonder why his eyes are still bright when you’re not.

When you met for the first time, you wondered if you were going to have a happily ever after.

Now, you storm out of the room every time you think back on that. You had a happily ever after, for a little while. Until he broke your heart and you let him.

 

* * * * *

 

You hear him sometimes, when it’s some ungodly hour and you’re both awake. You hear him crying, can almost feel his body shake next to yours. It fills you with a strange sense of satisfaction.

Let him feel what you felt.

You turn around, shifting restlessly when you think this might not be the right thing to do. Maybe you should both move on, find someone new to fall in love with. It makes the corners of your mouth turn down.

You wonder; what if you find someone new but still fall asleep to the thought of him.

 

* * * * *

 

He buys orange juice. Whenever he’s sad, he buys orange juice and drinks it, like it’ll fix him from the inside. It used to be your thing, he used to offer some to you when you were sad.

When you walk into the kitchen that morning there are three cartons of orange juice on the counter, and he’s filling a glass.

You wonder what would happen if he knew how bad he hurt you.

 

* * * * *

 

You didn’t bring an umbrella. He told you to bring one and you didn’t. It’s stupid, you know that, but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction of being listened to, not when he didn’t listen to you first.

That was a bad idea. You’re walking down the street and you’re wet and cold and all you want to do is grab his hand and press against him, because you know he’s warm and smells like home.

You look at him from the corner of your eyes. His hair is plastered to his face, raindrops gracefully gliding over his skin like they belong there, silently mocking you.

You grimace when you wonder if even the rain can’t help but fall for him.

 

* * * * * 

 

He buys you orange juice once. It’s on the counter in a glass. He’s standing behind you, watching your back shake with barely contained fury.

You knock over the glass, your stomach twisting when the juice runs over the counter, down to the floor.

“Stop pretending you care about me,” you hiss through your teeth.

He’s standing in front of the door and you push him away like the glass of orange juice. He doesn’t stop you when you storm outside.

You wonder later if maybe, you shouldn’t have said that.

 

* * * * *

 

When you come back after you’ve stormed out for the third time in a month, he’s in the living room, reading a book. You don’t really care until you see he’s reading Winnie the Pooh.

You drop your coat to the floor and he looks up at you. You want to ask him for an explanation but he doesn’t give one.

Instead he stands up and walks past you out of the living room, leaving the book behind. Your heart squeezes when his shoulder brushes your chest.

You wonder what would happen if you asked him to stay.

 

* * * * * 

 

You stare at him a lot. You’ve always liked looking at him. He’s always liked looking at you too, always softly smiling when he caught your eyes.

He’s stopped doing that. He can’t even look at you anymore. Instead, he’s started staring at his hands when he intertwines his fingers like he misses yours. You look away when that happens because it makes you nauseous.

You wonder sometimes if he stares at you every time you look away.

 

* * * * *

 

Sleeping is so hard when you can’t stop thinking.

 

* * * * * 

 

When you look in the mirror, you see a person you don’t know. He has your stupid curly hair, your stupid eyes, your pudge, your horrible face and your god-awful personality.

He’s not you though. You are long gone.

You wonder if all of you was lost in Him.

 

* * * * * 

 

He’s crying again. Soft little whimpers are floating through the apartment, filling the dead silence. Yesterday you would’ve done anything to get rid of the quietness. Now you just want him to stop.

You wonder if this is a good idea. You know this is a bad idea, you know, but it’s 2am and things aren’t getting any better.

There’s a tiny 24/7 shop around the corner. They sell orange juice.

You wonder if your mind forgets to remind you he’s a bad idea.

 

* * * * * 

 

You wonder if he thinks of you half as much as you think of him.

 

* * * * *

 

Everyone seems to think they need to remind you that something’s wrong. They don’t. You’re reminded every time he walks into a room and refuses to look at you.

They keep asking about you. Asking if everything’s okay. Asking why you’re acting weird around each other.

You wonder if you looked at each other a little too long to be ‘just friends’.

 

* * * * * 

 

You never talked about this with anyone but him, but you really like the stars. They used to be a reminder to you that something existed, a constant presence grounding you.

Now, you shut the curtains tightly and don’t let any light filter through them. You wonder when that happened, when you started resenting something you love.

It makes you smile as your heart twists traitorously. You’re just a star in his night sky.

 

* * * * * 

 

You turned off your phone because you couldn’t handle that he wasn’t even trying to talk to you.

 

* * * * * 

 

You start to leave the lights on when you leave the house. You used to turn them off when you left, to tell him that you were gone but would be back quickly. You stopped because he doesn’t care anymore.

(That’s not the only reason and you know it. You wonder why you won’t admit to yourself why you want him to notice when you’re not around.)

 

* * * * *

 

He isn’t crying tonight. It makes your head float and your heart sink. The silence in the house is more deafening than his whimpers were.

You take to filling them yourself. It makes you wonder why he’s screaming in your thoughts, yet you aren’t even a whisper in his.

When you enter the kitchen the next morning, there’s orange juice on the counter.

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, lemme know what you think? idk i think it's p clear who's POV this is this time so yeah?
> 
>  
> 
> [my tumblr](http://ninchuser.tumblr.com)


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